


For the Birds

by zombified419



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Barnes Has Issues, Bucky Barnes Remembers, Bucky Barnes-centric, Bucky Gets Technology, Bucky Has An Ulterior Motive, Disney Movies, M/M, Oblivious Steve Rogers, Pixar Shorts, Possibly Unrequited?, Post-Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie), Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Steve Rogers Feels, Stucky - Freeform, To Get Steve Drawing Again, bucky is an avenger, but not really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-28
Updated: 2016-07-28
Packaged: 2018-07-27 07:47:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7609720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zombified419/pseuds/zombified419
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He tried not to blame himself, but it was entirely his own doing. He’d been the one who suggested the Disney movies; maybe he’d been selfish about it, but it was all for Steve. He wanted to see his friend draw again, wanted to see that light and glint in his eyes that he always got while he worked. Steve, coming back from missions tired and hollow, that wasn’t Steve Rogers. Bucky hated what Captain America did to his best friend, and if he had to sit through hours and hours of what they’d missed to see Steve smile again, then he would. Bucky couldn’t help being selfish when it came to Steve. He always had been. (That he knew for a certainty.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	For the Birds

**Author's Note:**

> So this was originally suppose to be a birthday story for Steve (read: posted on July 4th), but this turned waaaay longer than I anticipated, and I took a ten day vacation to California and work was a little hectic, so I'm late. Super late. But it's here, regardless, and I hope you all enjoy it. I'll also have an update for The Prude in the next day or two, so keep an eye out for that too.  
> Thanks, guys! Enjoy, and happy belated birthday, Stevie!

* * *

Bucky hadn’t been back long, maybe a year in total. He spent a lot of that time figuring his own shit out. Sometimes that meant he’d disappear for a few days; sometimes that meant he’d withdraw and shut himself off in his room. Often, his days were getting better, and Bucky knew that that was largely because of Steve Rogers. 

Steve, for all of his adaptation to the new future world, still was kind of lost on some things. After crumbling Hydra and spending quite a bit of time hunting for Bucky, Steve learned his fair share of how technology was _suppose_ to work, even if Stark still had to explain things with a put-upon sigh. 

Once he’d convinced Bucky to come back with him (read: convinced whatever SHIELD was now to let Public Enemy No. 1 so close to their All-American Super Soldier), Bucky took it upon himself to figure out what he could for himself and Steve, much like he’d done before. 

(He remembered things, difficultly at first, but they came more natural around Steve as their proximity remained. He remembered living in a shoe box apartment, the two of them, with only Bucky well enough to be able to work, and Steve almost always too sick to leave. Bucky’d had to figure it out then for them - food, clothes, rent, medicine - and it was something he found himself falling back into easily. Even if he didn’t really understand why, even if he didn’t understand the feelings, too.) 

After the nightmares slowed and Bucky stopped shutting the door in Steve’s face if he was having a bad day, things got better. Stark gave Steve a phone to give to Bucky, said for him to make an appointment with it to have Tony Stark _himself_ take a look at that arm of his. Steve’d tried explaining it the way to Bucky that Stark had to him (which contained a lot of unnecessary words that made Steve’s brow furrow adorably, which meant Stark had been having a laugh at Steve at his own expense, _which meant_ that Bucky may or may not have to have words with Stark about how he treated his best friend), but it wasn’t required. Bucky had paged Stark halfway through Steve’s attempted explanation with a quick text to request what would be convenient for him and turned all his attention on Steve. Steve stopped, noticed Bucky’s hands stopped moving, and asked if Bucky would show Steve what he’d done, because honestly when Tony had told him he’d had one helluva time trying to decipher it. 

Bucky took to the new technology of the world in an alarming way, almost reminiscent to his strength and calibre for sniping. Steve could only marvel as Bucky explained things or worked something out for Steve. It was nice for Bucky, to know that Steve still needed him in some way. Steve was big now, taller and broader than Bucky, and Bucky knew he could very well take care of himself _without_ Bucky. But Bucky would always watch his six, and he would metaphorically hold his hand whenever it came to learning something new. 

(No matter how much he literally wanted to.) 

* * *

Bucky spent a bit of his free time getting caught up on television, watching anything from campy dramas to hardcore noir crime. He didn’t leave their apartment much, especially when Steve was off fighting whatever the hell he needed to still fight. He knew how tired Steve was of everything, but no matter how much Steve Rogers wanted to drop the shield, Captain America wouldn’t let it happen. Even if he did, Steve would still be the same scrappy kid from Brooklyn with a black eye and asthma, even if he didn’t get black eyes for more than an hour and could run four hundred thousand marathons and not be out of breath (don’t fact check him - Bucky’s sure Steve could really do it if he wanted, he was such a stubborn sonuvabitch). And Bucky would still be the scarily devoted best friend who had his back, even if it was sometimes from clear across the globe while he watched coverage of whatever Steve was fighting against. 

He was currently running through a catchup on a show he was shamefully embarrassed to like, an older one called _Beavis and Butt-Head,_ when he noticed there was a suggestion for another animated show. That lead to _Daria,_ which lead to another show about teenage angst, then a show by a franchise he actually _recognized,_ and that’s how Bucky Barnes discovered Disney in all it’s 2016 glory. 

He decided then and there that he’d wait for Steve before he pursued any further. 

* * *

Steve came back into town a day later, shooting off a text to Bucky to let him know when he’d be arriving back at the apartment. Bucky tried to contain his excitement as he waited and almost counted down the hours. He watched _Jurassic Park_ and twiddled his fucking thumbs. When Steve finally walked in with a world-weary sigh, Bucky launched himself over the back of the couch. 

He landed in front of Steve gracefully, making the other’s eyes widen as he chuckled. “That’s some greeting.” 

Bucky shrugged. “Got somethin’ to show you, is all.” 

Steve’s expression relaxed from pinched to fond, a smile creeping across his lips. “Okay, sure. Mind if I change first?” 

“Don’t take forever primpin’, Rogers,” Bucky called as Steve headed to his bedroom. Bucky’d left the door open to keep it from getting stale, but also so he could look in whenever he walked by to his room. There was an underused easel set up by the window with a newly wrapped canvas settled on it. Bucky wrapped them for Steve when he needed new canvas, but Bucky noticed that Future Steve didn’t seem to have as much interest in art as Past Steve, and Bucky was hoping this would fix some of it. 

“Like _you’re_ one to talk,” Steve answered lightly. “What with all your fancy shampoo and shit.” Bucky huffed and stalked back around the couch. 

“Can’t help it if you’re jealous of my hair,” Bucky sniped, and was rewarded with warm laughter from the hallway. Steve emerged in soft grey sweats and a worn shirt that said _IheartNY_ across his chest. 

“Guilty,” Steve answered. He settled into the armchair adjacent to the couch and stretched his legs out. “So, what’s got you so worked up?” 

Bucky carefully took the remote in his metal hand and flipped to where he’d starred what he found for later. “Found somethin’ neat.” 

“Yeah? What is it?” 

Bucky shook his head at Steve’s curiosity. “Wait an’ see.” 

Bucky felt Steve’s eyes on him as he settled on what he’d found. “How ‘bout you watch the screen instead of me, Rogers. Might find somethin’ there ya like.” 

Bucky saw Steve open his mouth to say something, but Bucky had long since pressed play on the remote and the distracting sounds of Disney’s iconic intro with the castle and Tinker Bell drew Steve’s attention. He looked at the screen somewhat in awe as something Bucky remembered Steve knowing very well played. 

“It’s _Snow White,”_ Steve breathed. He flicked his eyes to Bucky. “How’d you find this?” 

“Through a series of unfortunate series,” he said with a grin. “I…remembered seein’ this with you, a few times. Remembered how much you loved it and how long you spent hummin’ the songs while you drew.” 

Steve’s face morphed into an expression Bucky recognized well - it always surfaced whenever Bucky talked about remembering something, and it would have been pity on anyone but Steve. It was almost pained, how hopeful it was, but Bucky could also see the unbridled pride there each and every time, and now wasn’t an exception. The pride that Steve knew Bucky was trying, and it showed in the little things. 

(Really, Bucky did remember scrounging together a few nickels to take Steve to see the film twice. It was great, to see his blue eyes light up and that smile touch his lips. Bucky enjoyed most of all seeing Steve dive back into his art with a renewed fervor. No doubt he’d been an animator if things’d been different, but somehow Bucky didn’t mind the future now. He’d admit to no one that he had an ulterior motive here, to see that Stevie come back and doodle on scrap brown sacks from what groceries they could buy. Or even to just use the wrapped canvas sitting on his easel.) 

Steve’s expression softened to a small smile that Bucky relished. “Thank you, Buck.” He relaxed further into the armchair. “I needed this.” 

“You’re welcome,” Bucky answered and honestly felt it. He turned to the screen, pretended to watch Snow walk happily through the woods to her cottage, but truly he watched Steve from the corner of his eye. Steve rested his hands in his lap, something of a dopey grin on his lips. Bucky noticed the way his fingers twitched, almost like he wanted to be holding something. It made Bucky smile. 

Bucky kept quiet for the remainder of the film, stealthily watching Steve from his point on the couch. As the credits rolled, he swallowed and turned his attention to his friend. “Well?” 

“Gosh, Buck, it was _so great,”_ Steve gushed. His eyes were as bright as they were in 1937. “They remastered and smoothed out a lot, but it’s still so beautiful.” 

“Yeah,” Bucky agreed. He paused, not for dramatic effect, but because Steve seemed lost in thought. “Ya know, there’s more.” 

Steve blinked back to himself and looked at Bucky again. “I remember them telling me.” He paused. “It was on my list, but I just, well I guess I never got around to it.” 

Bucky heard the unspoken but ignored it. “Well, how ‘bout you order some pizza and we’ll watch ‘em in chronological order.” 

Steve fought down his smile. “Might take some time, Buck.” 

Bucky shrugged. “Ain’t got no where to be, Stevie. Get a meat lover’s, will ya?” 

Steve grinned and pulled his phone from his pocket to do just that. 

* * *

It _did_ take some time. That day they managed to get through _Snow White, Pinocchio,_ and _Fantasia,_ which Bucky liked the best. Steve enjoyed the art of them all, usually sitting quietly during each film. He would occasionally turn to Bucky with an observation, but otherwise they were silent. Steve had moved to the couch when the pizza came, and Bucky liked that the best of all. 

The next morning had Bucky waking to the smell of syrup and bacon, and he emerged to find Steve making breakfast for them and offering to eat it together on the couch to watch _Dumbo._ They did, and the entire thing hit Steve a little too hard, leaving the man sniffing and Bucky dropping a comforting palm to his shoulder. _Bambi_ looked promising, just a lively story about fun-loving forest creatures living their lives. Boy, Bucky wasn’t sure he’d ever been more _wrong_ in his entire life. Just another story about losing someone’s mom and having to strike out on their own, and once again Bucky had to listen to Steve fight down his emotions, and while Bucky offered comfort, having to deal with his own. 

Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. The first few had been amazing, eliciting exactly the responses he’d been hoping for from Steve. Day Two was a far cry from the first, and now Bucky wasn’t feeling up to continuing. When Steve asked to stop for a bit, Bucky wholeheartedly agreed and started to leave to give Steve some space. 

“No,” Steve said, carefully grasping Bucky’s wrist. “Could you stay?” 

The request was so quiet and honest, all Bucky could do was nod. Steve nodded gratefully in return, his accompanying smile a little wobbly. He stood from the couch and shuffled to the hallway, to their rooms. Bucky looked over the edge of the couch curiously, his eyes following Steve until he couldn’t see him any more. A few minutes passed, Bucky listening to rustling and Steve’s quiet murmurings, before the man emerged again. He had a sketchpad tucked under one arm and pencils in his other hand. Bucky felt his pulse race. 

Steve sat again on the couch, his back against the opposite armrest. He drew his legs up and crossed them. He nibbled at his bottom lip; Bucky wanted to lean over and soothe the blossoming red mark. 

“Buck,” Steve began, his eyes on the sketchpad in his lap. “I, uh, don’t know if you remember or not, or…” Steve trailed off; talking about what Bucky could and couldn’t remember would always be a sore subject for the both of them, but Bucky had been doing much better. 

“But,” Steve said, abandoning his original thought. “You used to sit for me, back then.” He flicked his eyes up to Bucky, his gaze open but guarded; Bucky figured it was a feat only Steve Rogers could obtain. “I was hoping, maybe, if you didn’t have anything else going on, that you wouldn’t mind? Sitting for me?” 

Bucky would swear time slowed for him, looking at his best friend sitting across from him, all 6’4” of Captain America the Super Soldier (no, Steve) sitting there with hope in his eyes all for Bucky. When he’d hoped Steve would draw again, he never thought he’d be the subject. He could vaguely remember helping Steve with his anatomy, but the thoughts were fleeting. 

Bucky watched Steve’s cheeks steadily flush in his silence, the embarrassment from his request no doubt wrecking havoc on the man. Bucky let a small smile spread. 

“Yeah, Stevie,” Bucky finally answered. “I’ll sit for ya.” 

Steve’s answering smile was so blinding and _worth it_ that Bucky figured all his trepidation about continuing the movies was worth it, too. 

* * *

Steve had to leave for a few days for some diplomatic trip to Geneva, leaving Bucky to his own devices in his absence. He found himself drawn to Steve’s sketchpad, sitting harmlessly on the coffee table where he’d left it. If Steve didn’t want Bucky to look, he wouldn’t have left it out in plain sight, right? Bucky brought his coffee with him as he sat down and pulled the book to his lap. 

He ran his flesh hand over the cover and flipped it open. They’d sat for a few hours, Steve asking Bucky to shift this way or that while he watched something mindless on the TV. There were sketches of his metal arm, details added painstakingly; a few of his profile, hidden behind the curtain of his hair. Bucky flipped a few pages, surprised Steve captured so much in what felt like such short time. He paused on what Steve must have focused the most on, a full page sketch of just Bucky’s face, turned away, most likely towards the show he’d been watching. Bucky couldn’t remember what it had been, but he’d been laughing; his eyes crinkled at the corners and his dimples showed in his cheeks. The dark circles weren’t as severe under his eyes, which somehow Steve had managed to capture light and laughter in. It was jarring, to see someone so opposite of himself staring back up at him, wearing his skin. 

Bucky set the sketchpad back, closed, on the table, and took his coffee up again. It wasn’t as hot as when he’d sat down but it was still warm against his palm. He settled against the cushions, his cup resting on his thigh. Was that how Steve saw him? He knew that if he looked in the mirror, the circles under his eyes would be dark and his hair a mess, the stubble on his cheeks threatening to take over in a hefty beard. He sighed - at least Steve was optimistic. 

At least Steve was drawing again, even if it was a dismal Bucky. 

Bucky used his phone to research Disney movies, straying away from the sadder of the collection. He made a note to avoid _The Hunchback of Notre Dame_ and _The Fox and the Hound_ if they could, which seemed like the last few of the darker ones. If Steve still wanted to watch them, then Bucky would warn him, but he wouldn’t stop him. 

Bucky knew Steve would be gone four days, at least. He settled in with the remote and his coffee, eyes occasionally drifting to the sketchbook on the table as the days passed. 

If Bucky trimmed his scruff back and worked on getting into a better sleep schedule, no one was around to notice. 

* * *

Steve returned as world-weary as before, his shoulders slumped slightly as he set his shield by the door with his shoes. Bucky walked in from the bathroom, fresh from a shower and giving his hair a trim. 

“Heya, pal,” he greeted, smiling when Steve turned to look at him. Steve’s eyes widened slightly, his lips curling into a smirk. 

“I’m not sure how you got in here, but have you seen my best friend?” Steve asked, shrugging out of his jacket. “He’s shorter than me, beginnings of a caveman beard, usually looks a little like he bit into a lemon - ” 

Bucky snorted a laugh and punched Steve’s shoulder. “Nah, guess you’ll have to put up with me. I’ll keep an eye out, tho’.” 

Steve grinned at him and clasped his shoulder a little tighter than usual. Bucky was glad the haunted look to his eyes was gone, replaced with laughter at their banter. Even if he acted a fool, he would do whatever he could to keep Steve smiling. 

Bucky returned the gesture before stepping out of Steve’s space. “So, you feelin’ up to pickin’ up where we left off?” 

Steve nodded eagerly, to Bucky’s surprise. “Yeah; I’ll get changed, you wanna order food?” 

Bucky nodded right back as Steve grinned. “Awesome; be right back.” 

Bucky fished his phone from his pocket as Steve brushed by him. “Whaddaya want?” He called, crossing to where they kept take out menus in a drawer. 

“Chinese or Indian, you pick,” Steve answered. Bucky glanced over his shoulder, getting a somewhat clear view at Steve’s open door. He watched Steve pull off his shirt, his hair getting tousled, before swallowing and looking away. 

“Chinese?” He called. 

“Sounds good.” 

Bucky called and ordered enough food for six people before settling into the couch. Steve joined him a minute later. Bucky was already flipping through the films. “What’s up for tonight?” 

_“Cinderella,”_ Bucky answered, the opening already playing. “S’posed to be nice.” The trepidation hung between them like a dark cloud, but Steve wasn’t having it. 

“I’ve heard about this one,” he paused. “From Wanda, I think. She loves this story. It’s about a girl who finds her prince charming.” 

Bucky snorted. “Just like _every_ princess movie?” 

Steve turned a wry smile his way. “Better than a deer seeing his mom die in front of him.” 

Bucky shrugged somewhat awkwardly. “Yeah; _that_ was rough.” Bucky could still feel Steve’s eyes on him, so he looked over. “What?” 

Steve had a dopey grin on his face that he _was_ trying to school, but it wasn’t working and it made Bucky begin to smile. 

“What’s up, pal?” he prodded again. Steve, still grinning, shook his head and looked back at the screen. 

“Nothin’, Buck,” Steve said. “Just thinking how great this is, is all.” 

Bucky kept his eyes on the screen but couldn’t stop his smirk. 

* * *

They watched _Alice in Wonderland,_ and Steve marveled at the difference in story from the Tim Burton one Clint had everyone watch. He enjoyed the Carpenter and the Clams story the best (the bully getting all roughed up, Bucky figured), but Bucky liked the painting the roses red scene. He didn’t want to admit how much he related to it, trying to paint himself a different color to be liked, but Steve hadn’t asked, had only smiled and agreed that it was beautiful. 

_Peter Pan_ was fun - it reminded Bucky of before, or what he could remember of it, when it was just him and Stevie dreaming about getting out of their shitty lives to somewhere grand. Steve brought it up before he could. 

“That reminds me of the forties,” he murmured after Wendy agreed to follow after Peter. He kicked his feet up on the coffee table and smiled over at Bucky. “I’d follow you anywhere, pal. Maybe an enchanted island instead of a war’d be nice, but I’ll still take it.” 

Bucky just ducked his head and agreed. 

After _The Lady and the Tramp,_ Bucky decided to make a change. They, ironically, ordered Italian for that film’s dinner and grinned at each other when the spaghetti scene occurred, Bucky with his chicken parmesan and pasta and Steve devouring his spaghetti and meatballs. Steve dropped a meatball onto Bucky’s takeout box just as Bucky started scooping over a few strips of chicken, grinning like the idiots they were. The next morning, Bucky got up and left while Steve was out for his morning run. He drifted to a nearby coffee shop, one Steve often brought him coffee from, and waited around until a barber opened. 

When Bucky returned, running a nervous hand through his shorter hair, Steve’s jaw had dropped. Bucky wondered what he was thinking as his eyes darted all across Bucky. He quickly closed his mouth and smiled so warm that Bucky felt like he was still out walking in the sun. 

“Your hair, you cut it,” Steve offered. Bucky just snorted and rolled his eyes. 

“Yeah, Stevie, I cut my hair.” 

Steve’s smile widened, if it were even possible. “It looks good, Buck. _You_ look good.” 

Bucky ducked his head to hide his blush, punching Steve’s shoulder as he walked by. “Thanks, punk.” 

After Bucky settled into his lounge wear, they watched _Sleeping Beauty._ Bucky couldn’t help but think of Steve, with his golden cornsilk hair and beautiful blue eyes like Aurora, while they watched. 

“That was sweet,” Steve commented while Bucky fished for the next film. “It’s romantic, to think just a kiss could fix everything.” 

Bucky hummed his agreement beside him. “If only things could be that easy, Stevie.” 

“I’m sure they could be, depending,” Steve answered lightly, and Bucky suddenly wondered if Steve was on to him. Had he not been discreet enough? Could be \- he always had trouble keeping how he felt about Steve from his face, if Natasha calling him out on it last time they were all training counted. It did but didn’t - Natasha was trained to see weakness and exploit it, but no one else had mentioned it. 

“Why don’t you lay one on the next bad guy and let me know how it goes?” Bucky offered, grinning to hide how uncomfortable just the _thought_ of Steve kissing someone else made him. Steve, oblivious, just grinned back. 

“I’ll get back to you,” he answered, making Bucky laugh. 

* * *

Steve was preparing to head out for an Avengers call when his phone rang. He picked it up, answering with a curt _Rogers_ before stilling altogether. Bucky sat up from where he lounged on the couch with a book. Steve was standing rigid, his posture so straight that Bucky was immediately alert. 

“Alright, I’ll tell him,” Steve answered before hanging up. He looked at Bucky, his lips pressed in a thin line. Bucky got to his feet. 

“You okay?” He ventured, crossing to the kitchen when Steve stood. When he didn’t get an answer, Bucky gently grasped Steve’s forearm. “Stevie?” 

“You’re cleared,” he answered quietly. Bucky blinked.  


“Cleared? Of what?” He asked with a frown. Steve’s nostrils flared as he inhaled. 

“Cleared for service,” Steve clarified. “If you wanna take it. That was Nat, she said Fury has given the okay.” He paused. “You can come with me, Buck; be an Avenger.” 

Bucky swallowed, his grip loosening on Steve’s arm. He wasn’t sure he wanted to be a part of the Avengers; hell, he wasn’t sure if he even wanted to hold a _gun_ again. He liked lounging around, deciding what to watch or eat or if he wanted to cut his hair while he waited for Steve to come home. He didn’t want to fight anymore; he just wanted to watch fucking Disney movies with Steve. 

“Buck?” Steve’s voice drew him back, and he blinked, focusing on his best friend’s worried blue gaze. “You don’t have to. You can stay here; I’ll be back soon.” 

Honestly, Bucky just liked being around Steve, and if that meant going back out there and being a weapon, _he_ would call the shots. _He_ would decide who the enemy was and fight alongside Steve again, like _before,_ and watch his six. Watch _Steve’s_ six. 

Bucky smirked slightly. “Cleared, huh? Knew Barton couldn’t handle watchin’ your six.” 

Steve’s smile was blinding, and Bucky hurried to gather his boots. 

* * *

Bucky didn’t much mind being out again; he was able to protect Steve with his sniper, and when he needed backup, no one could get to him faster than Bucky, not even Iron Man. The threat was neutralized quickly, and Bucky knew - a little smugly - that was partially his doing. Steve removed his helmet and threw an arm over his shoulders once clean up arrived. 

“What’s next?” He asked, a tired smile on his lips. 

_“101 Dalmatians,”_ Bucky answered, enjoying Steve’s warmth pressed against his side. Natasha eyed them, but Bucky ignored her. 

“What’ve you boys got planned?” She asked directly, and Bucky cursed himself as Steve answered. 

“Bucky found all the Disney movies we missed,” he answered. “We’ve been watching them in order.” 

“How’d you like _The Lady and the Tramp?”_ Nat asked, keeping her eyes on Bucky. Bucky resisted rolling his eyes - he knew her game. 

“Oh it was so great!” Steve gushed. “The art was beautiful, even remastered. The spaghetti scene was my favorite.” 

“I bet,” she replied with a knowing smile. “Well have fun; maybe I’ll join you for _Beauty and the Beast._ Nice haircut, Barnes.” 

Bucky nodded at her, narrowing his eyes slightly. She just smirked and waved as she left. 

“See Buck? Told ya it looked good.” 

“Yeah, Stevie, thanks.” 

* * *

Steve watched _101 Dalmatians_ and loved it; they deviated from the course for the real life version with Glenn Close, and Steve enjoyed that one, too. He laughed at all the right times, and Bucky couldn’t help his own smile each time Rolly asked about food in the animated one. 

“That’s the pup version of you, pal,” Bucky finally teased Steve after Rolly was rescued and prodded for dinner. “Always eatin’, always hungry.” 

Steve scoffed and feigned hurt. “What can I say? A man’s gotta eat.” 

_The Sword in the Stone_ was a blur for Bucky, too busy watching Steve’s reaction to tiny Arthur pulling the strongest sword in history from a rock when countless others failed. It was another close to home story, and one that Bucky liked better than _Bambi._ Steve was chosen by Erskine like Arthur was by Merlin; both saw the good in the smaller, younger men, and Bucky appreciated what little of his luck he could that someone else saw in Steve what he saw. 

A day later they watched _The Jungle Book_ and _The AristoCats,_ and Bucky may or may not have downloaded a few songs from both films for Steve, surprising his best friend when they went to the gym and it was Bucky’s turn to take over the soundtrack. _Robin Hood_ was just as predictably perfect for Steve as Bucky expected, especially when Robin Hood went out of his way to give everything he could to the people of his village. 

Bucky sat for Steve while the first _Winnie the Pooh_ film played in the background, it’s senseless story perfect to keep Bucky entertained while Steve sketched him. The movie was hardly over an hour and once it finished, Steve sat close enough to Bucky to press their bodies together from shoulder to knee. He passed over his open sketchbook until Bucky took it in his flesh hand. Steve was warm against his side, warm against his metal arm. 

“Did you believe me when I said you looked good, Bucky?” Steve asked, his voice lowered for just their ears. There wasn’t another soul in their apartment, but the intimacy wasn’t lost on Bucky. “I don’t think you did, so I wanna show you.” 

Steve opened the cover to the picture of Bucky he’d drawn that first time, the one Bucky looked at for more time than he cared to admit. He stared back at his own face, at his Steve-brightened expression and his overgrown facial hair and shuffled. 

“Alright?” He cleared his throat. Steve chuckled softly beside him. 

“Check it out.” Steve flipped to the page he’d been working on. Bucky swallowed thickly, looking down at a version of himself he didn’t recognize. 

It was from the side, as Steve’s vantage had been, and Steve’s talent hadn’t dimmed in the slightest. The shading was light but defined around his chin and cheekbones, clear from the stubble and beard that was in the previous piece. His hair was parted on the side and pushed back from his forehead, falling against his other cheek. Bucky felt a heat raise to his cheeks when he noticed the detail around his eyes and mouth - his gaze soft while he watched Pooh’s antics and a small smile curling his lips. Bucky wondered, again, if that was how Steve always saw him. 

“You’ve come a long way, Buck,” Steve said, drawing Bucky’s attention back to him. “I haven’t seen you so relaxed, and…” _Yourself,_ Bucky thinks, but Steve just shakes his head. 

“You should believe me when I say it, pal,” Steve continued. “You look good.” 

Bucky said, “Thanks, Stevie.” Because that’s all he really could say. 

* * *

They watched _The Rescuers_ the next day and then Steve headed out to the store for dinner, wanting to pick up a few essentials, too. Bucky stayed in and grabbed his tablet to research more Disney movies. He knew what was next - a notoriously sad film that he wasn’t sure Steve would want to watch - and Bucky was hoping to find something else to be able to offer his friend when he returned. 

Then he discovered Pixar. 

After watching a few of the shorts, one about a little boy and his father and grandfather cleaning the moon, and another about a toy solider trying to escape a little baby, Bucky was hooked. It was exactly what Bucky was looking for - he’d offer _The Fox and the Hound_ under a warning, with the Pixar shorts as a cleanser if Steve wanted to go through with it. 

When Steve returned half an hour later, Bucky did just that. 

“Well, what’s so sad about the film?” Steve asked as he folded their reusable bags and tucked them away by the fridge. “I _feel_ like I’ve probably seen worse.” 

“Dunno, honestly,” Bucky confessed. He shrugged and set aside his tablet. “Just saw that it was pretty sad. Same with _The Hunchback of Notre Dame.”_

“Well, let’s find out for ourselves, Buck,” Steve said with a shy, crooked smile that made Bucky’s heart hammer against his ribs. “How ‘bout we make dinner and settle in.” 

Bucky got up from the couch and helped Steve make tacos. He cut the lettuce and tomatoes and toasted the shells while Steve made three pounds of taco beef, sprinkling in spices and tasting as he went. Steve had always wanted to cook, and now that it was possible, Bucky wasn’t surprised by how much flavor the blond managed to give everything he made. (Bucky remembered the boiled cabbage soup, something he never wanted to eat again. Ever. This lifetime or the next.) 

Bucky turned the coffee table into a dinner table, setting out small bowls of sour cream and salsa and extra napkins. He pulled the table closer and set his plate down while Steve walked over with two Cokes balanced in one of his large hands while he carried his plate in his other hand. 

“You sure about this?” Bucky said, offering Steve another out. Steve shook his head and settled in beside Bucky, close enough for their knees to touch. 

“Yeah; I’m sure it’ll be fine,” Steve dismissed, taking a huge bite out of one of his tacos. Bucky nodded and pressed play on the screen; Netflix loaded the intro to _The Fox and the Hound._ Bucky relaxed into the couch and began eating as well, eyes focused on the screen. 

Bucky was quickly sucked into the story, just like he expected. The friendship between Todd and Copper was so perfect right from the beginning; Bucky was weary, listening to the two friends promise to be together forever and waiting for the universe to say fuck no, when Steve leaned over and murmured, “That’s _us,_ Buck. Right from the beginning.” Bucky shuffled slightly but nodded, bumping his shoulder to Steve’s briefly to say what he couldn’t. 

Bucky was right to be concerned - Todd was abandoned in the woods and Copper was brought up a hunting dog, splitting their happy world in two. Bucky felt his throat seize, trying to ignore the parallels between Todd and Copper and himself and Steve. It was heart wrenching, and Bucky noticed Steve stilling beside him. His plate joined Bucky’s half empty one on the coffee table as the plot thickened, and then Todd washed up on the riverbank and Copper found him. The tension was palpable; Bucky clenched his jaw tight enough to feel his teeth grind. The gun rose and Todd’s eyes widened in fear. Copper stood over his childhood friend, he stood tall and proud even as the hunter demanded he move. Bucky swallowed thickly when he felt Steve’s hand drop to his knee and squeeze. He covered Steve’s hand with his flesh one and tried to ignore his own shaking. 

Bucky wasn’t sure Steve realized exactly how _right_ he’d been when he said that was them. 

The movie ended happier than Bucky anticipated, but Steve still didn’t pull back and Bucky didn’t either. 

“That was…intense,” Steve said, breaking the silence after the credits rolled. 

“Yeah,” Bucky answered a little hoarsely. He cleared his throat and stood abruptly. “I’m, uh, gonna go.” 

Steve blinked up at him, confused. “What? Why?” 

_Because that was a little too real and I might do something stupid if I stay here._ Because Steve’s eyes were still shining from the emotion he felt during the movie and his lips were red from being nibbled and - Bucky just didn’t trust himself. 

Instead, he said: “Not feeling well. Maybe somethin’ in the tacos.” 

Steve’s eyebrows furrowed deeply and Bucky wanted nothing more than to kiss the wrinkle away. “Do you want me to get you anything?” 

“No,” Bucky said too quickly, pausing to grab his tablet. He missed the look Steve no doubt gave him, but it didn’t stop him from avoiding his gaze. “I’ll be fine. Just wanna lay down for a minute.” 

“Bucky,” Steve began, but Bucky shrugged. He knew he was being weird, and he knew Steve knew it’s from the film. But Bucky didn’t back down, didn’t stop even when Steve pleaded his name. “Bucky, _please.”_

Bucky did linger in his doorway for a moment, looking back to see Steve standing at the end of the hallway. 

“Sorry, Stevie.” 

He shut the door before Steve could say whatever he opened his mouth for, and Bucky was glad he found those Pixar shorts. 

* * *

Bucky stayed in his room for a few days, ignoring when Steve tried to talk to him or knocked on his door. It was hard; the self-imposed isolation made Bucky feel like he’d backtracked. He’d been doing so well, too. 

He tried not to blame himself, but it was entirely his own doing. He’d been the one who suggested the Disney movies; maybe he’d been selfish about it, but it was all for Steve. He wanted to see his friend draw again, wanted to see that light and glint in his eyes that he always got while he worked. Steve, coming back from missions tired and hollow, that wasn’t Steve Rogers. Bucky hated what Captain America did to his best friend, and if he had to sit through hours and hours of what they’d missed to see Steve smile again, then he would. Bucky couldn’t help being selfish when it came to Steve. He always had been. (That he knew for a certainty.) 

There was another knock on Bucky’s door. He looked over and waited. 

Steve eventually spoke. 

“Hey, Buck.” His voice sounded tired and sad, but Bucky studiously tried to ignore his guilt. “I’m, uh, heading out. Got a call from Tony, well, FRIDAY, and I’m needed.” He paused, and Bucky knew what he’d say next. “Are, are you comin’ too? Could use some help watching my six.” 

Bucky shook his head. He wasn’t ready. Stupid Disney movies and their stupid feelings. 

“Alright.” Steve’s voice lowered, thick with disappointment at Bucky’s answering silence. “I’ll see you when I get back, then? Maybe we’ll watch the next one, if you’re up to it.” 

There was more silence, but Bucky knew Steve hadn’t left yet. He heard a soft thud against his door. “Bye, Buck.” 

Bucky waited until he heard Steve’s boots on the kitchen tile, waited until he heard the clink of his motorcycle keys against his shield, waited until the front door of their apartment closed. 

“Bye, Stevie.” 

* * *

Bucky itched. He watched all of the Pixar shorts he could find; they helped with his restlessness, but not by much. Steve left two days ago. Bucky itched to go after him. 

He’d migrated to the living room couch after the first day and settled in. He used airplay to throw the videos to the TV and went through their entire stash of soda. It was rough going when he had to change to water, but he didn’t want to leave. He’d found something else he wanted to show Steve, and he hoped to make up for his silent treatment. Bucky couldn’t leave and get back after Steve. 

So he waited. 

* * *

Steve returned after the fourth day, sweaty and drained and still in his uniform. Bucky popped his head up from the side of the couch after he heard the door close behind Steve. 

“Hey,” he said, his voice pitched lower. Steve startled, very visibly, while he was lowering his shield. The vibranium stuck into their floorboards from the force of being dropped and wobbled slightly. Bucky stared at it. “So much for the security deposit.” 

Steve blinked owlishly at him, his eyes so wide and blue, that Bucky would have thought he hadn’t seen him in a week. Well, it _had_ been a week in fairness, but Steve was acting more like it’d been _months._

“Bucky,” he breathed, his hair tousled from the wind on his bike and stuck there from sweat. His cheeks and lips were flushed red, his skin paler. He hadn’t been taking care of himself. 

“That’s me,” Bucky chirped, standing smoothly from the couch. Guilt gnawed at him; if Steve was hurt, it was all his fault for being a coward. “You didn’t take care of yourself, pal.” 

Steve blinked again and came back to himself. Bucky kind of missed the bewildered look. “I did fine.” The answer was curt, so Bucky leaned against the back of the couch. 

“Doesn’t look like it,” Bucky answered. He roamed his eyes over Steve’s uniform, looking for any abnormality. One of the usually white stripes down his abdomen was streaked red, and it didn’t take a super soldier to smell fresh blood. Bucky immediately tensed. “You’re hurt.” 

Steve shook his head. “It’s nothing. Already almost done healing.” 

“Let me see,” Bucky demanded, making a motion to move to Steve. 

“No.” Bucky stopped. 

“What?” 

“I said it’s nothing, Buck. I’m fine,” Steve continued. He kept his eyes resolutely focused on something behind Bucky. He wasn’t looking at him, but he wasn’t looking away, either. “Just gonna take a shower and get some sleep.” 

Bucky couldn’t be mad. He wasn’t really allowed to be; he’d just done the same thing to Steve a few days ago. So he bit the inside of his cheek and nodded sharply. “Not standing in your way,” he answered. “Night.” 

Something like pain crossed Steve’s face as Bucky turned to sling himself back across the couch. He heard Steve sigh after he settled into the cushions but didn’t say anything. Bucky listened to Steve stalk into his room, listened to the door close, and continued to listen until the shower started in the hallway. 

Bucky was watching _For the Birds_ for a second time when he heard Steve walk up behind the couch. 

“What are you watching?” He asked, his voice less weary. Bucky took a breath through his nose. He’d missed Steve’s voice. 

_“For the Birds,”_ Bucky answered. He’d moved to prop his chin up on his metal fist, lounging across the entire couch. “It’s Pixar.” 

“What’s that?” Steve sounded genuinely curious, and Bucky couldn’t help his smirk. 

“An animation studio that Disney owns.” 

“More Disney?” He paused. “Did we skip these on purpose?” 

“No,” Bucky shrugged. “Just found it.” 

“Oh,” Steve answered. Bucky knew it wouldn’t take more than a second before Steve was nudging him over to sit down. He was partially right. 

Steve sat down on the floor, pressing his back against the couch in front of Bucky’s chest. Bucky caught a whiff of Steve’s body wash and shampoo, both smelling like sweet apples. It was both ironic (Bucky’d laughed when Steve bought it the first time) and so _Steve_ that Bucky could only love that, too. 

“Would you mind starting it over?” Steve asked, not turing to look at Bucky. It hurt Bucky more than he cared to admit that Steve wasn’t sitting on the couch with him, sharing his space. He’d gotten used to it. 

“Yeah,” Bucky said as he reached for his tablet. He had to lean over Steve’s shoulder to grab it from the coffee table, catching another wave of apple. Bucky swallowed; did Steve ever feel that way around him (breathless, always breathless), or noticed how he smelled? Bucky was glad he showered earlier. 

Bucky paused and started the video over, enjoying the fun music at the beginning. This was probably his favorite of the shorts he’d found, and he knew it would rapidly become the same for Steve, too. 

“Those little birds are fucking assholes,” Bucky murmured. Steve laughed, the action shaking the couch slightly. “Seriously, watch.” 

Steve did, his eyes glued to the screen. When the bigger bird sat on their wire, he chuckled again as all the little birds slid to the centre. “He’s so _big.”_

“And awesome,” Bucky said proudly. “He’s our hero.” 

When the first bird pecked his toe, Steve gasped. “Hey! That’s not very fair. He can’t help his size.” 

Bucky kept his eyes on the side of Steve’s face, watching the indignation and annoyance grow as the bigger bird was pecked and bullied. He couldn’t help but smile. 

When the screen panned out after one of the bird’s discovery, Steve snorted. “Serves ‘em right.” 

Bucky grinned widely when the big bird fell, and all the smaller birds were shot up like a rocket. Steve’s grin matched his, and when the first bird fell back naked, Steve laughed as loud as the bigger bird did. He laughed so hard there were tears streaking down his cheeks. It was one of Bucky’s favorite sounds; the way Steve laughed and smiled with his entire being always took Bucky’s heart a moment to catch up and now wasn’t an exception. Steve Rogers would always be the most beautiful thing Bucky would ever see. 

Steve looked over his shoulder at Bucky, his smile wide and his eyes bright. “That was perfect. Just what I needed, Buck, thank you.” 

Bucky smiled softly. “You’re welcome,” he answered in a mimic of days before, but now he leaned the few inches between them and pressed his lips to Steve’s temple. He felt Steve go rigid beneath him, and Bucky was already deciding that another few days holed up in his room would be worth it for just this stolen moment. 

He had no idea if Steve felt the same way about him. He never did, not before or during the war, and certainly not after it. Steve was always a constant, always there whenever Bucky needed him, like the best damn friend he was. It was a mirror of before, and now Bucky hoped he’d still be there after whatever damage this did, too. 

When Bucky pulled back, trying to commit the smoothness of Steve’s skin to his memory, Steve’s eyes locked on his. 

“Buck?” His voice was unwavering and asking for something Bucky wasn’t sure he could answer. 

“Will you help me with somethin’, Stevie?” Bucky answered instead. Steve nodded. 

“Yes,” Steve answered with a nod, so Bucky leaned close again and pressed his lips just under Steve’s eye. He felt Steve’s eyelashes ghost against his skin and had to gallantly repress a shudder. He could taste the salt of his tears from laughter. He could taste _Steve._

“That okay?” He murmured, still so close his lips grazed Steve’s skin. 

“Yes,” Steve breathed. Bucky’s heart hammered in his chest; it was okay. _Steve was okay._ Then maybe, maybe Bucky could press his luck a little more before he had to hide for a month. 

Bucky moved closer to Steve’s lips, kissing the side of his mouth. “Okay?” 

“Okay.” Steve’s voice was low. “It’s okay.” 

Bucky pulled back slightly, his eyes dropping to Steve’s full lips, his bottom lip darker than the top from obvious worrying. As Bucky watched, those lips parted in an exhalation of breath; Bucky followed the next with a soft kiss. 

Steve’s breath hitched, or it may have been Bucky’s own, but the touch was electric. Bucky’s lips tingled as Steve actually _kissed him back._ He never would have imagined it, never would have been able to believe it even in his wildest dreams, that Steve may’ve returned his feelings. 

It was amazing, and Bucky tilted his chin to deepen the contact. He felt one of Steve’s hands twine in his hair, starting from the shorter strands at the base of his neck and twisting gently in the longer towards the top. Bucky hummed and swiped his tongue along Steve’s bottom lip, exactly like he’d always wanted to, and Steve’s answering moan was enough of an invitation to delve in. Bucky ran his metal knuckles against Steve’s jaw and stopped at his neck, holding him in place. 

He prolonged the kiss as long as he could, enjoying the soft sighs and moans from Steve, before the angle of his body became too uncomfortable and the need for air too strong. Bucky pulled back but Steve held him in place, pressing their foreheads together. He was out of breath, his eyes closed and his cheeks flushed beautifully as he panted. Bucky delighted in knowing he did that, _he_ made Steve Rogers lose his cool. 

“Buck,” he finally said, breaking the spell between them. His voice was hoarse, and Bucky knew he wouldn’t sound much better. 

“Yeah?” 

“That was - ” 

_“Yeah.”_

Steve opened his eyes, his pupils still dilated. Bucky missed the blue, his _favorite_ blue, but seeing all that black was just as beautiful. 

“How long?” Steve asked. Bucky shrugged. 

“Before the war,” he answered. “Before _Snow White,_ the first time.” 

Bucky heard Steve audibly swallow. He swiped a tongue along his kiss-red lips, and Bucky had to force himself not to follow after it. 

“Me, too,” Steve said softly. His thumb rubbed warm circles on Bucky’s neck, and just the action was enough to relax him. It was nothing next to the relief that he felt knowing Steve felt the same way, and he couldn’t help but grin. 

“You sayin’ we could’ve been doin’ that the whole time?” Steve’s lips spread in a slow grin. “Dammit, Rogers. You’re such a shit.” 

“But you love me,” Steve answered cheekily. His eyes widened at what he’d said, but Bucky just smiled back. 

“Yeah, Steve,” he said. “Yeah, I do.” 

Steve surged up for another kiss, startling a chuckle from Bucky. “Me, too, Buck. I love you, too.” 

Bucky’s heart stuttered. Steve climbed onto the couch without breaking their kiss, and Bucky was happy to have his best friend’s warmth pressing him into the cushions. It was better than Bucky could ever imagine. He felt like a weight had been lifted, finally telling Steve how he felt, and he intended to show Steve _exactly_ how much he adored him. 

But first. 

“You’re never goin’ back out there without me,” Bucky growled, pushing against Steve’s chest. Steve groaned and pressed his forehead to Bucky’s sternum. 

“It’s fine, Buck. I’m all healed up.” Steve grabbed Bucky’s flesh hand and rucked his shirt up, pressing Bucky’s fingers to his abdomen. Bucky swallowed but felt around, pressing the hard muscle. 

“See?” Steve offered, but Bucky didn’t miss the hitch in his breath as Bucky’s touch lingered. “Not even a scar.” 

“Still,” Bucky continued. He didn’t stop stroking Steve’s skin as he spoke. “I’m going with you every time. I don’t trust anyone else to watch your six.” 

Steve rolled his eyes but smiled. “Seriously?” 

“I think that answer is pretty obvious,” Bucky deadpanned. “Unless ya wanna ask the blood drips on the floor to be sure.” 

Steve shrugged. “I might.” 

It was Bucky’s turn to roll his eyes. “Punk.” 

“Jerk,” Steve answered fondly, leaning down for another kiss. When they parted, Bucky grinned. 

“I’m pretty sure Nat’s got a runnin' bet on us.” 

“Between the whole team, probably.” 

“Wouldn’t surprise me,” Bucky said with a grin. “How ya wanna tell ‘em?” 

Steve hummed, leaning back to tap his chin. “How ‘bout we just let them figure it out?” 

Bucky grinned again, not really able to help himself. “Leave it for the birds?” 

Steve groaned. “And you say _I’m_ a shit.” 

“What can I say, Stevie?” Bucky said, still grinning as he wrapped both his hands around the back of Steve’s neck to pull him into another kiss. He couldn’t get enough, now that he finally _could._ “You bring out the best in me.” 

* * *

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Let me know your thoughts, and follow me on tumblr for story updates (zombified419). :) Thanks again!


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